Break Me, Love Me, Leave Me
by Leatrix Malfoy
Summary: Seventh year. Harry feels that fate has been leading him for too long. When the attempt on his own life is stopped by the two most unlikely people, Harry finds himself baring all to his schoolyard enemy. (DracoHarry Slash Attempted Suicide)
1. Chapter One

_Harry/Draco slash. If you don't like, don't read. If you read past here and get offended by it, don't say I didn't warn you. If I get an flames saying how 'disgusting' he pairing itself is, I'm going to ignore you._

_This is a dark fic. Involves attempted suicide, lots of angst. Again if it's not your cup of tea don't read. _

_There's some OOCness, most with Draco. He's acting nicer for a start, hopefully he'll still be him though. Harry is a little bit more depressed than canon as well. So if that bothers you just leave the fic alone and read something else *smiles*_

_**Summary:** Seventh year. Harry feels that fate has been leading him for too long. When the attempt on his own life is stopped by the two most unlikely people, Harry finds himself baring all to his schoolyard enemy. _ (Draco/Harry / Slash / Attempted Suicide)

_The title of the fic is a play on the song Break Me Shake Me - Enrique Iglesias on his new album, Seven._

**

Break Me, Love Me, Leave Me

** _

I hold my breath as this life starts to take its toll  
I hide behind a smile as this perfect plan unfolds  
But oh, God, I feel I've been lied to  
Lost all faith in the things I have achieved  
**Evanescence - Give Unto Me**

_

**Chapter One**

Seventeen years old and he already felt like he had lived at least fifty. The last year especially had dragged on forever, each day longer than the last. Innocent after innocent dying, being tortured by Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters.

He had to live it all every night when he went to sleep. Every curse; every scream; every time the green curse hit its target he watched it all. It was times like that he cursed the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter brushed a hand through his already messy hair. He felt like screaming until his voice was hoarse, but he didn't. If someone was watching him, they'd notice that he was being unnaturally calm on the outside. It was almost eerie. 

He wasn't calm though, he was far from it. He had this little internal fight going on inside him, asking him if living in this world was really worth it. Was all the pain and suffering that he had endured ever since he was born worth it all?

The Gryffindor Common Room was empty. Everyone had disappeared to lessons, but Harry couldn't see the point in going. There was a war going on in the outside world and Hogwarts kept going like it wasn't even happening. Of course Hogwarts hadn't been targeted by Voldemort yet, but it would only be a matter of time.

No one would come looking for him, they never did anymore. He would only snap at them shout at them until they either ran off crying or punched him one in the jaw. Ron had done that once, it still didn't help.

He couldn't live with it anymore. 

He couldn't live with the guilt of letting everyone die.

All the nameless faces he saw while he was sleeping haunted him every waking moment of the day. Night would only bring more.

Harry noticed that it was nearly the end of lessons. Not wanting to face anyone, he grabbed his school clock and his wand and all but stumbled out the portrait. 

He didn't watch where he was walking, but somehow he ended up on the Quidditch pitch. 

The Quidditch pitch was a weird place to be when it was totally empty. It was a place people rarely went when there was no match being played, which is why Harry liked it when it was empty.

For the first time that day, Harry realised it was Halloween. The thirty-first of October; the day the Dark Lord was defeated for the first time, the day his parents were murdered. 

That was the first sin on his ever growing list.

Harry couldn't help but wonder about all the what ifs. What if he had died that day with his Mother and Father? What if they were both alive? How different would life be if there was no Lord Voldemort?

Harry cursed the first time he ever heard the name Voldemort. 

Why did he have to ruin everything?

"Because he's a stupid bastard," Harry muttered half heartily under his breath, kicking a stone across the muddy grass. "Absolute wanker." The stone hit one of the Quidditch goal posts with a clang. 

Harry closed his eyes and let himself fall back onto the grass. 

He wondered how much everyone expected him to endure before he gave up. He never knew his parents. The Dursleys didn't give a damn. Sirius was gone, Remus too. He was caught by Death Eaters near the end of Harry's sixth year. Harry had seen him being tortured to death with silver in his dreams. 

Little did people know that Harry Potter had already given up.

Harry knew everything had been different once he saw Cedric Diggory die right in front of him at the end of his fourth year.

He was living on borrowed time now, he knew that. He didn't like living on borrowed time, it took all the fun out of life not knowing if you were still going to be alive at the end of the day. 

For once, Harry Potter was taking fate into his own hands. 

He pulled a hand out of his pocket. The sunlight glinted off the pocket knife. It was the same one he used in Potions. It was clean; he had made sure in his last Potions lesson.

There was no way he was going to let some prophecy run his life like he had for the last year. There was no way he'd let Voldemort have the satisfaction of killing him himself. He'd rather die on his own terms, which was exactly what he was doing.

He just felt sorry for all the people who thought he was some kind of hero.

_I'm not,_ he thought, _I'm just a normal, average wizard. I'm just sorry for taking the coward's way out. Not worthy of a true Gryffindor, I am?_ He laughed bitterly, one lone tear running down his face.

_No one cares about you really._ Harry eyed the blade once more. _They just make out they do because you're their precious saviour, their golden boy._

He rolled up the sleeve of his robe and pressed the knife against his wrist, watching the skin pale underneath it with a sick fascination.

_No body really knows you, not really. Everyone thinks they know you, but how can they know you when you don't even know yourself?_

Without giving it a second thought, he drew the blade across his thin wrist.

_Of course the world will mourn the loss of their little boy hero, but they'll get over it. Voldemort would never win, Dumbledore wouldn't let him._

_But what about the prophecy?_ A small voice echoed at the back of his mind.

_Stuff the prophecy,_ he thought slashing the blade across his wrist again. _Trelawney is nothing but a fraud anyway._

_That's not strictly true,_ the voice tried again. _The prediction she made at the end of third year came true…_

Harry watched the blood leak from his wrist. It was a little late for seconding guessing himself now. He smiled with grim satisfaction as he let the knife fall to the floor. Harry let his eyes fall closed as the world faded around him.

* * *

_This is funny. I never knew being dead felt like the knight bus running over your head a good few times…_

"I think he's waking up."

_Waking up?_

"Potter?"

_Wait a minute........ _

Harry made a grunt and slowly opened his eyes. All he could make out was a blur of black, green and white in front of him. He tried to push himself up off the ground, but a hand stopped him.

"Woah! You don't wanna be doing that."

Harry let himself fall back again, not having the energy to argue. Moving the hand up to his forehead, he opened his eyes again, trying to make them focus. He still couldn't. It was about then he realised he didn't have his glasses on. As if someone read his mind, the familiar wire framed glasses were pushed onto his face.

_Malfoy and Zabini,_ he thought groaning,_ of all the people to…_

He let his foggy mind try and piece together odd bits of information.

"You alright, Potter?" someone asked. Harry was sure it was Zabini.

The Boy Who Lived didn't answer. He closed his eyes again, deciding the sunlight was too bright for him.

"You scared the shit out of us, you know that?"

"Draco!"

"Well... He bloody did! How would you fancy telling Dumbledork his little golden boy died?"

"You have a good point..." the other boy said. 

"Of course I have a good point for fuck sake. When do I not have a good point?"

Harry cracked one eye open to see Blaise glaring at the other Slytherin. 

"You'll have to excuse Draco. He's having a bad day," Blaise explained.

Draco laughed bitterly. "Bad day? I'd rather call it a fucking shit day. Father is on my back again." He put on a deeper voice. "When are you going to get the Dark Mark Draco? When are you going to kill muggles for sport?"

"Why don't you just tell him where to go?" Blaise interrupted.

"As if I would live after that conversation. Then to top off my bad day, we have to find Potter offing himself." Draco complained. He fell back and sat on the floor with a thud, which was very unlike him. "I'm too old for this."

"You're seventeen Draco, not forty-seven."

"Then why do I feel like I'm forty-seven?" Draco moaned.

"I'm sorry to be part of you're bad day." Harry spat out in a low grated voice. Draco actually had the nerve to look slightly embarrassed.

"If that's all the thanks I'm getting I should have just left you," he muttered before leaving. Blaise looked after the blonde Slytherin for a few minutes before turning his head back to Harry.

"You'll have excuse him. He's gets touchy about some things." Silence invaded them both. Blaise coughed lightly and threw a small bottle towards Harry. The dark haired boy grabbed it with his right hand. "Just drink that and sit for a while until the world stops spinning." With that the Slytherin left.

_'You'll have excuse him. He gets touchy about some things.' What the hell did that mean? _Harry thought.

Harry tried to shake his foggy head clear. He'd think about it more later. He drank the cool liquid from the bottle and waited for the world to turn right side up.

It was only then he thought about what Malfoy had said. Harry scratched his head. _He doesn't want the Dark Mark?_

* * *

Harry was still sat in exactly the same place hours later. The knife had disappeared; he assumed Malfoy or Zabini had taken it with them when they had left. He still had his wand on him, but for some reason he couldn't find the will to try and kill himself again.

The sky was beginning to dimmer as the sun left the sky. Harry drew his legs up to his chest.

Maybe it was the little voice in his head that had changed his mind at the last minute. Maybe it was some stupid fascination with finding out why Malfoy didn't want to Dark Mark. Harry had always thought Draco would be at the top of the list when it came to new Death Eaters.

But then again he was still at Hogwarts, wasn't he?

Most of the older Slytherins had left to join their parents. Even a few Ravenclaws had gone. Harry knew that at least two younger Gryffindors had left too. In Slytherin seventh year, as far as Harry knew, there was only Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson and Nott left. The Boy Who Lived hadn't really realised Malfoy was still there until today. That showed how much he took notice of the things around him lately. 

Another thing that was bothering him was how different Draco sounded when he wasn't spitting pathetic little comments at people. How different he acted when he wasn't sneering at people.

_Why do you care, Harry? _He thought to himself, _you don't even like Malfoy._

That was true, but it didn't mean certain opinions about someone couldn't change. If Malfoy hadn't acted so stuck up on the train in first-year who knows what might have happened. Hell, they might have even been friends. What if they were meant to be?

He was so deep in thought he didn't even notice Draco walking up behind him.

"Still here, Potter?" Draco asked with a slight leer in his voice.

Harry didn't even bother to turn around. "No, I'm actually sat in my dorm room. This is just a duplicate of me." 

As Draco walked to stand in front of Harry, the Boy Who Lived faked a smile. It was easily seen through.

"No need to be sarcastic, Pot-"

"Why?" Harry cut in.

"Because there's no need to be sar-"

Harry sighed and cut in again. "You know what I mean Malfoy. Stop being a prick for once in your life."

"I told you before," Draco began. "I don't want to have to be the one that tells Dumbledork about his boy wonder killing himself."

"You could have just walked away, let someone else find…" Harry trailed off. "Why are you here anyway?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders and sat on the ground. "The Great Hall is full of people who are trying to act like they're happy when they aren't."

"And being out here with miserable me is so much better?" Harry said sarcastically.

Draco shrugged again. "I didn't expect you to still be out here."

Harry sighed and idly tapped his wand on the ground. "Suppose not. Doesn't explain why you're still here though."

"I thought I might be able to carry off a decent conversation with you," Draco explained with a slight smirk.

Harry looked a little bewildered. "There's only one thing wrong with that; you hate me."

"Hate is such a strong word…"

Harry scoffed and Draco gave the Boy Who Lived an amused look.

"I don't hate you. Hate is for people who deserve it like You Know Who," Draco said, brushing imaginary lint off of his robes. "Sure, you can be an annoying git sometimes-"

"And you can't?" Harry interrupted.

"I never said I wasn't."

Harry shook his head. "Of all the things I expected to do today, this wasn't one of them."

"Of course it wasn't. You weren't planning to live past half three," Draco said in a normal conversational tone.

"You're not going to sit there and ask me why I did it?" Harry asked, picking at the grass.

Draco shrugged. "None of my business," he said in a way that suggested he really didn't give a damn either way.

Of course this made Harry actually consider telling him the reason. _He doesn't want to hear about your problems,_ he reasoned with himself. _He's not even your friend._

_What if I want him to be?_

Draco smirked. "You're seriously considering telling me now, aren't you?"

Harry smiled weakly. "I have no idea why."

"I'll tell you why," Draco pushed himself up onto his knees. "One; you want someone to listen to you who doesn't have an emotional attachment to you so they won't tell you that everything will be alright when it won't. Two; you don't want to tell your friends because you think that they have enough problems of their own."

Harry blinked. "I think you understand why more than me," he commented.

Draco dusted his hands off then cracked the fingers on his right hand by bending them back. "It's obvious."

Harry had to briefly wonder why Draco –_ When did he suddenly become Draco to you? _– was talking to him as if there was no bad blood between them both. It was probably only then he realised he hadn't argued with Malfoy since the end of sixth-year and Malfoy hadn't argued with him either. _ Probably why you thought he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. _He faintly wondered why he hadn't noticed before. _Because you were so wrapped up in your own problems you didn't care._

Harry had no idea why he was going to say his next few words. "Listen… do you… erm…"

"Want to listen to you have a moan? Sure, why not, I have nothing better to do." Draco said amusedly. "I'll meet you in the room across from the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy at ten."

"You mean the room of requirement?" Harry asked.

"Is that what's it's called?" With that he pushed himself off the ground. "Suppose I'll be seeing you later then." He then walked away.

Harry watched him until he walked out of sight then he shook his head.

_What the hell am I doing?_


	2. Chapter Two

_Only took me just over a month to get this out... *looks around sheepishly* Well I did say I wouldn't work on it as much as More to Life, right? I'm sorry it's shorter than the last chapter but it seemed right to end it there._

_Thank you to bobby, TsukiBlue, The Shadow Bandit, Usually Immaculate Aristocrat, Kimmy15, Slice and 14badeggs for reviewing and thanks to anyone who has read the story but hasn't reviewed._

_Again don't expect anything fast with this story. As much as I enjoy writing it I still need to get out chapters of More to Life._

**Chapter Two**

_Hold on  
If you feel like letting go  
Hold on  
It gets better than you know  
**Good Charlotte – Hold On**_

_Six year old Harry Potter quietly placed his knife and fork down on his plate, trying to ignore the glare his Uncle gave him._

_"Can't you be any quieter boy?" he snarled dangerous._

_"Sorry, Uncle Vernon," the dark haired boy muttered. _

_Harry looked back at his Uncle, to his plate, to Dudley, who was still stuffing his face full of food. He sighed and worked up the courage to ask his Uncle what he had wanted to for a few months now._

_He closed his eyes and spoke. "Uncle Vernon" He stopped and steeled himself up to ask. "What exactly happened to my parents?" He tried to put it as nice as he could so his Uncle wouldn't get too mad with him. He still did though._

_His huge Uncle spluttered a little before speaking. "How dare you ask that, boy!?"_

_"Sorry Uncle Vernon," Harry said quickly. "I just wanted to…"_

_Vernon__ suddenly grinned. "You really want to know, boy?"_

_Harry nodded slowly, scared of the grin his Uncle had plastered across his face._

_"The worthless fools got themselves killed in a car crash. That's where you got that hideous scar of your forehead from. Both of them were drunk at the time. Both of them worthless freaks."_

_Harry couldn't help but think there was more to it than that. "You're wrong," he whispered quietly._

_"What boy?" Uncle Vernon said slowly._

_"You're wrong!" Harry yelled out as he stood up sharply, making his chair scrap along the floor. "They weren't worthless freaks!"_

_Uncle Vernon raised an arm slowly and Harry cringed back in fear. __Vernon__ smiled coldly. "Go to your room boy," he said in a tone that didn't really sound like him at all. This made Harry look up. _

_Harry did as he was told and made his way towards the kitchen doorway. He heard his Uncle's voice once more before he entered his cupboard. _

_"I'll think of your punishment later."_

His Uncle did deliver his punishment later. A few cuffs behind the ear was all he got from his Uncle, but the man stood and watched as Dudley kicked, punched and scratched harder than any normal six year old ever could. 

Harry didn't ask about his parents again after that.

"Harry?" a voice broke his retrieve.

Harry stopped staring at the flames in the fire of the Gryffindor Common room and looked towards the voice. "What Hermione?"

Hermione looked at him for a moment before she sighed. "Are you ok? I never saw you at the feast earlier."

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. "That's because I wasn't at the feast."

The Gryffindor girl looked as though she was going to break into a lecture, but thought better of it and just sighed, turning another page of the book she was reading.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, giving his watch a quick glance. Ten to Ten.

"Last time I saw him he was still stuffing his face in the Great Hall," she told him. "He's probably still there or in the kitchens. He seems to be hanging around with Neville more lately."

"Yeah," Harry answered absently, again looking at his watch. "I'm going for a walk."

"Again?" Hermione asked a little puzzled. "You just came back not long ago."

Harry just shrugged and stood up. He didn't notice his shirt sleeve ride down his arm just a little, enough to see the still angry red marks from earlier that night. Hermione noticed and let out a nearly inaudible gasp. Harry still heard her. He glanced at her and then glanced to where she was looking. Harry swore quietly and pulled his shirt sleeve back down and began to walk off.

"Harry-" Hermione began before she was cut off.

"I'll see you later," he snapped, exiting the Gryffindor common room.

"Harry, wait!" she shouted in return, but he didn't turn around. He walked as fast he could towards the Room of Requirement in case she was following him. He really wasn't looking forward to going back to Gryffindor later.

He walked into the room without really consciously thinking what he wanted the room to be. He must have thought of something because when he walked in the room was decked out in a mixture of Gryffindor gold and Slytherin green. He didn't take much notice of the décor and let himself fall into the nearest chair.

Harry didn't look around when he heard the door open and close a few minutes later. "You turned up then?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "I told you earlier I had nothing else better to do."

"Still didn't think you would come. I mean we aren't exactly buddy-buddy, are we?" Harry closed his eyes and leaned further back in the comfy chair. "You've changed."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Have I?" he said, totally uninterested. "Maybe I've always been like this and you've never noticed?"

"It's hard to notice with all the sarcastic comments and nasty words you always send our way," Harry said.

Draco grinned. "What can I say? I live to torment."

"I'll say," Harry muttered.

"You know you'd miss it if I stopped."

"It'd make life a hell of a lot easier if you stopped."

"Not true."

Harry growled. "It bloody would!"

Draco just looked at Harry a little amused. "Are we going to argue about this all night?"

"I wouldn't mind. Anything to stop me going back to Gryffindor," Harry muttered.

Draco sat himself down in the chair opposite Harry's. "And why's that?"

"Hermione saw… something she shouldn't have before I left to come here," he told him, his eyes flickering to his wrist as he spoke. 

"And you'd rather not tell her why you did it?" Draco asked.

"Well duh," Harry said sarcastically. "I'd rather not tell you either."

"So don't," Draco told him. "I don't care either way." He leaned further back in the chair, pulled his legs up and sat crossed legged, his elbows resting on his knees.

Harry sighed. "I have to tell someone, it's…"

"Eating you alive? Pulling you down? Getting out of control?"

"All of the above," Harry said with a weak smile. "Why are you even talking to me? All we ever do is throw insults at each other."

"We're at war Potter," Draco said a little warily. "Things change. Things change when people see other people trying to off themselves."

Harry stayed quiet for a while, thinking about what Draco had told him. He had to admit, if he had seen Malfoy trying to kill himself it'd change things between them. He'd try his very hardest to see why he'd tried in the first place. He assumed that was what Malfoy was trying to do to him. He sighed.

"You want to know why I did it then?" he asked quietly.

Draco shrugged again. "I wouldn't mind," he said in a dismissive tone.

Harry nearly smiled. He knew that Draco wanted to know why, but by acting like he didn't care it seemed to make it easier to actually tell him.

"It's a number of things really," he began quietly. He looked up at Draco to see the blonde Slytherin staring back at him. He looked down at his feet dangling off the end of the huge chair. "Two people close to me have d-died in the last two years. As well as that, there's this prophecy…"

"A prophecy?" Draco echoed.

Harry nodded. "About how I'm supposed to be the one to kill Voldemort. That or he kills me"

"Who made it?" Draco asked.

Harry pulled a face. "Trelawney."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And everyone believed her?"

"According to Dumbledore it was a proper prediction and she has made them before."

"Really?" the blonde asked in disbelief.

Harry nodded. "I still remember this off by heart for some reason, even though it was four years ago. 'The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever before.' It was after Divination, everyone else was gone and she just went into this trance. That was the night when Ron's rat turned out to be Peter Pettigrew in his animagus form. He ran off and a year later Voldemort came back." Harry once again looked up at Draco. "That's why I kind of believe it. If I kill him what does that make me? No one seems to care that killing him makes me a murderer. I just want to rule my own life for once…" he trailed off. 

Draco thought about how to word his answer before he spoke. "Dumbledore killed Grindelwald. Does that make him a murderer?"

Harry didn't answer. He never thought about it that way before, but somehow it wasn't making him feel better.

"It won't make you a murderer Harry," Draco said quietly.

"I'm not Dumbledore though," Harry said equally quiet. "I don't even know if I could do it. If I don't I'm as good as dead anyway." He pulled his legs up to his chest. "Might as well end my life on my own terms instead of on Voldemort's."

"He won't win."

Harry looked a little surprised. "What?"

"He won't win. Why do you think I'm still at school instead of kissing his robes?" Draco said in an amused tone to try and lighten the mood ever so slightly.

Harry chuckled a little. 

"There's something else bothering you."

Harry leaned his head on his knees. "Maybe."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"No," Harry whispered. 

Harry closed his eyes and shivered a little as he remembered the vision he had had the night before. No matter how hard he practiced Occlumency every night it never stopped the visions, though Voldemort hadn't tried to send him a fake one ever since fifth year. Voldemort probably thought that no matter how stupid the Boy Who Lived was he still wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Harry knew he wouldn't.

_The rain fell quietly over a small rural settlement that appeared to only consist of around ten reasonable sized houses. Harry didn't know how he knew, but he knew that most of the people there appeared to be magical._

_He was slowly making his way towards the settlement when something caught his eye. There was someone walking next to him._

_A Death Eater._

_He couldn't see who it was because of the mask it was wearing. The Death Eater obviously said something, but for some reason Harry couldn't pick up what was said. _

_"Everyone," was the words that came from Harry's mouth, or Voldemort's. He had a sneaky suspicion what that was in reference to. _

_The Death Eater next to Harry then rose it's wand in the air and mumbled a few words. Almost immediately the Dark Mark rose up into the sky. _

_And then it began._

_Doors burst open; curses flew through the air. Screams filled the seemingly quiet place; cries were heard of the people who had already lost their loved ones, waiting for it to be their turn. _

_Harry wanted to close his eyes but couldn't. He saw the arm raised in front of him, pointed towards a very surprised, unsuspecting wizard. Harry could have sworn he had seen the man before. Green light burst from the end of the wand and struck the wizard down at once. The lifeless body hit the fall._

_Then the vision ended._

Harry found out later that morning that the person he had seen die in front of his eyes was Arnold Peasgood. Harry had probably seen him in passing once in his life. It always seemed more real if he had actually seen the person in normal every day life.

Harry felt a hand on his should and nearly jumped a mile. Through all his musing he had completely forgotten Draco was still there.

"Potter?" Draco said in a tone that was so unlike what Harry was used t from him.

The dark haired boy looked over his shoulder to see Draco kneeling on the same chair he was sat on, an odd look in his eye that Harry though could nearly pass as compassion. He normally hated compassion, but coming from the one boy who Harry had thought hated him until tonight, it seemed different. Like he actually understood what Harry was going through, even though there was no way he could. The weight of the world that he carried on his shoulders seemed to recede just a little.

Harry felt something trickle down his cheek; a tear. He wiped it away and gazed at his damp finger. That was funny, he never cried. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had cried.

Another tear followed the last. 

Harry didn't even take notice when Draco gently pushed Harry's head to his shoulder. Harry carried on crying silent tears and Draco ran a hand through the Gryffindor's hair. None of them seemed to notice what they were doing; either that or they simply didn't care anymore.

_Someone's feeling lonely   
But I know you never will   
Cause when it all gets too much   
Put your head down on my shoulder   
A little warmth when it gets colder   
Now I don't know the things that you're going through   
But you can put your head down   
On my shoulder   
Where the storm is it blows over  
I know you're there for me too   
No I'll be there for you  
**Westlife – On My Shoulder**_


	3. Chapter Three

_A/N: I suppose people have been waiting for this long enough. *hides* I didn't even realise I hadn't updated this since nearly Christmas. Stupid time going too fast -_-. I'm really sorry for the wait. I've had half of this chapter written for months, but then I got writer's block. Draco is so out of character it's not funny but live with it I think he has a justified reason for it. A tiny bit of proper slash at the end of the chapter ^_^ *listens as everyone cries 'at last!'*_

**Chapter Three**

_Don't let your head rule your heart  
Don't let the world be torn apart  
Don't keep it all to yourself  
Just let all your emotions run free  
With someone like me  
That's the way it should be  
Someone like me  
**Atomic Kitten – Someone like me**_

****

Harry noticed the candle that stood on the centre of the table in front of him was flickering madly, as if someone was softly blowing on it. He'd been staring at the candle for the last half an hour, saying nothing to Draco, who still had Harry's head on his shoulder.

Harry sighed softly. "I don't feel like going back to Gryffindor."

Draco didn't say anything, but glanced down at the raven haired boy briefly.

"Hermione knows…" Harry carried on quietly.

"About…" Draco didn't finish his train of thoughts, since he knew exactly what Harry was talking about and Harry didn't exactly need reminding.

"Yeah, just before I met you. I ran off before she could question me about it." Harry lifted his head up and laid it on the back of the chair so he was looking at the ceiling. "If I know her, she'll still be up waiting for me to come back."

"You're worried she'll ask you why?" Draco questioned.

"I don't think she'd understand," Harry said in a whisper loud enough for Draco to hear. "Neither would Ron."

"You don't know if you don't try."

"I know them well enough to know they would probably send me to Pomfrey and that's the one place I don't want to be."

"Fair enough," Draco replied.

Harry gave the blonde a strange look. "Since when did you change so much?" he asked.

Draco gave a faint shrug. "Guess I grew up," he replied weakly.

The raven haired Gryffindor looked like he didn't buy that as a reason, but kept his mouth shut. He just gave a short nod in reply. Harry pried himself off the chair and stood up on slightly shaky feet. He took a quick glance at Draco and then at the door. "I'd better be going."

"Even though you don't want to?" Draco asked.

"I do a lot of things I don't want to. It's part of life," Harry responded. 

Draco glanced at the floor. "Don't you ever wish you didn't have to do things you didn't want to?"

"All the time." With that, Harry left the room.

* * *

As he predicted, Hermione was still sat in the Gryffindor common room when Harry entered through the portrait. She gave him an uneasy glance then returned to looking at the book she had on her lap. 

Harry tried to see if ignoring her and going up to his dorm would work. He had only put his foot on the first stair when she called for him.

"Where have you been?" she asked quietly. Since the common room was completely quiet she didn't have to raise her voice for Harry to hear her.

"Out," Harry replied shortly. He so wanted to tell her how he felt, but he didn't want her pity. He knew it was exactly what he would get if he told her. Being mean was so much easier than dealing with pity. At least Harry thought that.

"Harry-"

"Does it really matter where I've been?" Harry asked cutting her off.

Hermione frowned and slammed her book shut. "Well sorry for being worried about my best friend's welfare." She stood up from the sofa and stormed off up the stairs towards her room.

Harry cursed. He didn't want to make her mad, but in the end it was easier than telling the truth. He sighed and went to his dorm.

He didn't fall asleep until several hours later, only to fall into a world full of Voldemort's tortures in his dreams and wake up shaking only minutes later.

* * *

The next morning wasn't any better. Hermione was going out her way to ignore Harry and Ron seemed oblivious to the whole thing. To top it all off, Harry didn't sleep a wink of decent sleep the night before so when Ron tried talking to him, he snapped at the redhead.

When Ron held his hands up in defence and returned to eating his breakfast, Harry groaned. 

"I take it you didn't sleep well?" Ron asked after seeing his friend's groan.

"Try not at all," Harry mumbled, buttering a piece of toast.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."

Ron finally noticed Hermione wasn't there so asked Harry if he knew where she was.

"No idea," Harry mumbled.

"You've argued with her then?" Ron asked knowingly.

"How…"

"I always say that when I've argued with her."

Harry shook his head with a small smile playing on his lips. "It'll blow over soon enough," Harry replied, but he wasn't so sure.

The day's lessons dragged by slower than a snail. The first hour seemed to last for eternity and a day. Hermione was giving him glares every time she was sure Harry wasn't looking at her. He couldn't see her glaring, but he could feel it. Harry heard Ron let out a sigh from next to him.

"What the bloody hell did you do to piss her off like that?" the redhead asked.

"You don't want to know," Harry said.

"I wouldn't have-"

"I'd rather not tell you," Harry cut Ron off.

It was only then that Harry noticed who was sitting at the other side of Hermione; Draco. Harry watched as the blonde Slytherin leaned over and whispered something in Hermione's ear. Harry watched as the girl's face tensed then relaxed and softened. She risked taking a glance at Harry, so the raven haired Gryffindor looked away before she could catch him. When it came to the end of the lesson, Harry saw Hermione give him a softer glare than before and then left the room. Ron decided to go after her to see what was wrong, leaving Harry in the classroom with only Draco left.

"What did you say to her?" Harry asked as he took a step closer to the blonde.

"I just told her that she shouldn't be so hard on you and that you'd tell her when you were ready," Draco replied.

"What if I'm never ready?" Harry asked.

"I guess you'll never tell her," Draco said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly and then left the room.

* * *

The war was slowly getting worse by the day. Whole families were being eradicated on a daily basis. Owls would drop the dredged Ministry letters on people's breakfast plates each morning and each morning students would run out of the Great Hall with tears in their eyes. 

Not even the first years were innocent anymore. They'd all seen and heard too much, more than even a veteran Auror should have seen in a lifetime.

Harry Potter certainly didn't expect to see a black envelope land on his plate one morning a few weeks after Halloween. He didn't see Ron gulp nor Hermione give a slightly concerned look, (she still wasn't really talking to him properly, only the occasional sentence now and then).

Harry picked up the letter and crumbled it up in his fist before stuffing it in his pocket and walking out the Great Hall. 

He had a feeling he knew what it said.

Not that he cared; they had never been much of a family to him anyway.

Harry sighed, sat himself down on the floor next to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and opened the crumpled up letter anyway.

_'Dear Mr Potter _(it read)

_We are sorry to inform you that your relatives, Mrs. Petunia Dursley and Mr Vernon Dursley were found murdered in their home at 5.30 this morning._

_The Ministry offers it condolences to you after this tragic event. It is necessary…'_

Harry stopped reading after that. He shoved the letter back in the envelope, screwed it back up again and threw it lightly on the floor in front of him.

He could just imagine the Dark Mark hovering over Four Privet Drive, all the neighbours looking out behind their net curtains with horrifying fascination.

"What was the letter about?" a voice beside him asked. Harry didn't need to look up to see who it was.

"Willing to take a guess?" Harry asked, glancing up at the blonde Slytherin slightly.

"Well, it's a black envelope, so I'm going to say it's not an invitation to the Minister's birthday party."

Harry nearly laughed. "That's a pretty safe deduction," the black haired Gryffindor replied. 

Draco bent down and retrieved the letter from the floor and soothed it out over his knee. He pulled the letter out the envelope a little, took a quick look at the first sentence then screwed it up again. 

"I suppose it won't mean anything if I say 'I'm sorry', right?" the blonde asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I hated them they hated me."

"But…"

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "You sensed the 'but' then?"

Draco tapped his hand on his knee. "I'm gonna guess that you feel guilty for not wanting to mourn your only family."

Harry gave a slight nod.

"I felt like that when my Mother died."

Harry looked up in shock. "Your Mother?"

Draco waved a hand dismissingly. "Don't worry about it. She never showed me any love, she was just there. I assume it's what your Aunt was like?"

"Along with the insult remarks, just about," Harry answered. "It's just as well that it's seventh year. Dudley would probably start raging about how it's my fault."_ Which it is,_ Harry thought silently.

Draco seemed to catch on to what the raven haired Gryffindor was thinking. "It's not your fault."

Harry looked up at the boy who only weeks ago was his enemy. He saw a look of anger pass Draco's pale features. It was gone in an instant. Harry blinked and asked, "What the hell happened to you over the summer?"

Draco seemed to stiffen for a split second. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that," Harry began. "You don't renounce everything you've believed in since your were small because of nothing."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Believed in?"

Harry nodded. "I've done a hell of a lot of thinking over the years. Correct me if I'm wrong but Slytherins only follow Voldemort because it's what they've been brought up to believe in. Most of them wouldn't dare or want to question their families beliefs so instead follow Voldemort anyway, without really knowing what really happens once you're a Deatheater."

"You're more perceptive than I ever thought you were," Draco said after with few seconds of stunned silence.

"Appearance can be deceiving, you know," Harry mumbled.

"Suppose they are."

"What happened then?"

Draco sighed, glanced at the door behind him, which had just appeared and walked to open it. Harry pushed himself up off the floor and followed. 

As the door closed behind them both, Draco spoke. "It's not a long story; I just didn't want to start telling it in the middle of the corridor."

Harry nodded and waited for the blonde to speak again.

"During sixth year, I decided that I wanted to know what being a Deatheater was really about. My Father always used to tell me the greatness of it all. Once, just for a split second, I thought that maybe it wasn't what it was cracked up to be. I followed my Father to a meeting one day during the summer. He didn't know I was there, or a least I don't think he did. I wasn't there for longer than ten minutes because I just couldn't stand it anymore.

"I couldn't stand how they bowed to him, how they called him 'Master'. It was just like a bunch of House-elves, willing to do their master's bidding without question. I decided then I didn't want to be one. When my Father asked if I wanted the Dark Mark I said I'd think about it, but I'm not thinking about it because I don't want it. I just want to stall him."

"So that's what you were going on about on Halloween?" Harry asked and Draco gave a nod. "Isn't Blaise taking the Mark either?"

"No," Draco answered, "He never wanted to be and his parents aren't Deatheaters anyway. It's easier for him."

"Voldemort will die, you know," Harry said firmly.

"Harry-" Draco started but was cut off.

"He'll die even if I have to die with him."

Draco looked up at Harry sharply and took a few steps so he was stood only a few inches away. He looked him straight in the eyes. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

"Why?" Harry questioned. "The world would be a better place without me anyway."

Before Draco knew what he was doing, he placed a hand at each side of Harry's face. "No it wouldn't," he said softly. 

"Yes it would," Harry said in no more than a whisper.

Draco couldn't help but wonder what Harry would do if he leaned in just them few inches and kissed him. The blonde didn't realise he was unconsciously doing just that until his lips touched Harry's.

To say Harry was shocked was an understatement, but the shock lasted for no long than a few seconds when he realised that he didn't mind the fact Draco was kissing him, so he responded.

The kiss grew from the soft, barely touching pecks to a more passionate, air stealing one. The pair of them took a few steps backwards until Harry's back hit the wall. The kiss carried for a few more minutes until Harry decided he needed to breathe. He pushed Draco back slightly and looked up at him.

"Maybe it wouldn't," Harry said softly before he reclaimed Draco's slightly bruised lips.


End file.
